


Three-Quarter Time

by shinealightonme



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Flirting, Friendship, Gen, Holodecks/Holosuites, Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 18:50:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6918997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinealightonme/pseuds/shinealightonme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times Dax went dancing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three-Quarter Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [karrenia_rune](https://archiveofourown.org/users/karrenia_rune/gifts).



" _One_ two three, one _two_ three," Ezri muttered under her breath.

"Your counting does not improve your success rate," Worf rumbled.

"It's dance, Worf," Ezri told him. "It isn't about success rates."

"That would be a more persuasive argument if you were not standing on my toes," Worf frowned down at her.

A Klingon frowning down at you was not something to be set aside lightly, even if the Klingon in question was sort of your best friend and sort of your ex-husband. Especially if the Klingon in question was the Federation Ambassador to Qo'noS.

Ezri realized she'd lost count.

Oh dear.

"I really thought I was getting better at my memory recall," she sighed.

"Perhaps that is the problem," Worf told her, straight-faced. "You still rely too heavily on your memories."

"As opposed to?" Ezri asked, craning her face up to meet Worf's eyes. She cracked the top of her head against Worf's chin.

Worf, either out of pity or good old Klingon fortitude, did not mention her gaff. "The rhythm."

Ezri giggled. She couldn't help it. In two years of friendship, she could not have imagined a greater gift from Worf than hearing him say _the rhythm_ in his stoic warrior voice.

"Are you not taking my advice seriously?" Worf asked, and Ezri giggled again. He was _absolutely_ teasing her now, right? He _had_ to know how funny he sounded. "It is a simple matter of timing."

"I didn't realize you were such an expert," Ezri said.

"I have spent most of my life learning how to move my body to the correct timing and patterns," Worf rumbled. There was something so reassuring about that rumble, years and lifetimes later; the way his voice bounced around in his cavernous ribcage before emerging as words. Ezri felt a dizzy, joyous thrill run through her at the sense memory of it. "Dance. Battle. They are two different sides of the same coin."

"That might be the most romantic thing I've ever heard you say," Ezri told Worf.

He frowned. He was always puzzled by her; she couldn't decide how she felt about it, whether she still delighted in confusing him, or whether she wished he would have figured her out by now. "It was not a romantic sentiment."

"I know," Ezri said. But that was perhaps too harsh of a statement; she cleared her throat. "Still. You're a wonderful dancer these days."

"Well," Worf said, and there was that twinkle in his eye; the one that had taken Jadzia months to spot, the one that less observant folk still did not believe in. "You did not think the Federation would accept an ambassador who could not perform a simple waltz, did you?"

-

"One two three, one two three," Julian muttered under his breath.

"Julian," Jadzia chided him. "You can't count your way into being a better dancer."

"I can try," Julian said, his face pinched tight with concentration.

" _Julian_ ," Jadzia groaned. She wasn't regretting inviting him out to the holosuite, not yet, but the possibility was arising. Better to head it off at the pass. "Starfleet Medical exams ended years ago. Stop trying so hard and just dance."

"I _am_ dancing," Julian said, and wrenched her arm nearly out of its socket.

Some part of Jadzia, maybe a part that had been Torias, wanted to call for the computer to raise lights and stop the music; another part, Emony maybe, wanted to pass Julian off to another partner -- computer generated, or one of the Dabo girls -- and watch the disaster unfold.

Or maybe those were both part of Jadzia. Even quiet, focused Jadzia had got fed up; even dedicated, studious Jadzia had pulled a prank on a friend.

She did neither of those things, simply pulled her right hand away from Julian's and placed it over his eyes. He made a sharp noise of protest, and she shushed him.

Someone needed to teach the man how to give up control for one second.

Without quite deciding that was what she was going to do, she shifted her other arm, dropping her left hand down from his shoulder to his back, using her own shoulder to nudge his arm up to rest atop her arm.

"Well now I can't see _and_ you're leading," Julian complained.

"I see how you got second in your class," Jadzia said, amused. "Nothing gets past you."

To his credit, Julian did try to follow her steps for a good, oh, twenty seconds before he groaned in frustration and pulled his face away from her hand. "Is this supposed to be helping?"

"I'm just here to dance," Jadzia told him blithely. "Was there some _reason_ you wanted to learn to waltz? Only, if I knew the context..."

Julian's cheeks took on a pink hue, and Jadzia was a patient woman, but she _was_ looking forward to finding out whatever reason he had for playing at culture lately. Odds were it had something to do with the holoprogram that had had him booking every free minute he could at Quark's, and showing up in old Earth suits to boot.

"No reason," he said stiffly.

"Well, then, we have all the time in the world," Jadzia said. "So close your eyes and trust me to lead you."

-

"Computer," Ezri calls out. "Run Holo-program Dax 1-2-3."

Even as she's saying it, she realizes she's misspoken; her waltz program is saved under Ezri Dax twenty-three. Some mixture of -- muscle memory, maybe, or whatever old impulse made you remember all the notes of a song you hadn't heard in two lifetimes -- had made her call out the wrong holo-program code.

But before she can call the code to cancel it; before the computer can beep at her and give her an error message; before she can turn and flee Quark's holosuites; the computer whirs at her that it is processing her order, and then.

The setting forms around her; a romantic old Earth dance hall, low candle light, a string quartet warming up in the corner, and --

\-- A tall, beautiful partner standing opposite her.

Ezri stills, and holds her breath.

"Hello, Jadzia," she says.

"Hello, Ezri," Jadzia smiles down at her.

Ezri breathes out, a long sigh. She realizes, then, that her shoulders are up around her ears. She's subconsciously trying to increase her height. Jadzia's shade towers above her all the same, and she lets out her breath with a _whomp_ , settles into a more natural posture.

She will never be tall. She will never be graceful. She will never be Jadzia.

But the band strikes up a tune she knows, and she thinks, she may some day be a dancer.

"May I have this dance?" she asks, extending a hand to Jadzia.

"It would be my honor," Jadzia says, and pulls her close.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi karrenia_rune! I don't know if this is what you had in mind, but when you requested Daxes, Worf, Julian, the holodeck, and Ezri adjusting to the symbiont, this was what came to mind. I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> If you like this fic, you can [reblog it on tumblr](http://toast-the-unknowing.tumblr.com/post/145438114960/three-quarter-time-shinealightonme-star-trek)


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